


Filial

by Arowen12



Series: Blood of the Covenant [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dissociation, Isolation, Loneliness, M/M, Multi, Peter Lukas is Martin's father, Spoilers, this one is kind of heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12/pseuds/Arowen12
Summary: Martin only has one photo of his father.It’s a grainy old photo, hard to make out any definite features, but Martin can still see his father’s broad shoulders, the salt and pepper of his beard, dark grey eyes, he’s in a captain’s uniform, a ship’s captain.Martin is a lonely child
Relationships: Gerard Keay/ Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Blood of the Covenant [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750216
Comments: 10
Kudos: 148





	Filial

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I'm here with the third instalment for this series! If you haven't read part 2 you might not want to read this as there are spoilers for that part. This could be read on its own I guess, but it does include the canon divergences from the other fic. Also, this fic is pretty heavy in terms of loneliness, and I drew on my own experiences so please be warned and be safe. Anyways, read on and enjoy!

Martin only has one photo of his father.

It’s a grainy old photo, hard to make out any definite features, but Martin can still see his father’s broad shoulders, the salt and pepper of his beard, dark grey eyes, he’s in a captain’s uniform, a ship’s captain.

His mother tells him that he had a ship he was always off at sea on, a crew, some sort of transportation ship with those big sorts of boxes that Martin sometimes sees down at the docks. His mother doesn’t talk about his father much.

Martin is a lonely child.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t have friends. He does, he interacts with the kids at school. It’s just well, he’s always the kid left out, the one who has so much they want to share but is never chosen in class, who listens while everyone else talks.

He isn’t close with any of his friends, not really, he’s nobody’s best friend.

Martin gets invited to parties, but so does most of the class, his mother refuses to drive him to them. He doesn’t get invited to other kid’s houses for playdates or to go to the park, and he definitely doesn’t invite people over to his house; they probably wouldn’t accept if he’s being honest with himself.

So, he’ll listen in class as the others, his friends, (are they really?) talk about what they did over the weekend. It hurts the worst, Martin thinks, when they talk about hanging out with each other in front of him as if he’s invisible.

He’s never really bullied, sure he’s the fat kid, but he’s also big, he has his father’s broad shoulders. Besides for him to be bullied people would have to notice him.

He doesn’t like talking about his family.

All the other kids have what seems like perfect families. Their fathers work nine to five jobs, they take them to baseball games, or throw balls with them, even the divorced kids usually see their fathers. Their mothers are kind, caring, they bake cookies for them, and brush their hair.

Martin never met his father.

His mother is… cold. That is the best way to put it, Martin wants to believe that she loves him, has to believe because he’s not certain he can handle the alternative. For the most part, she leaves him on his own.

Later he’ll think, ‘I was a child, I needed love, I wasn’t supposed to be alone’ and he’ll hate it.

The house always feels empty even with how small it is.

He learns to cook on his own, through late-night tv shows and cheap recipe books, as her illness gets worse, he starts to take care of the household, he does the groceries, arranges her appointments, gets what jobs he can find even if it means lying on his CV or about his age.

He’s so busy sometimes it’s hard to remember he’s lonely but then late at night he’ll scroll through whatever social media feed is current and see people he knew talking to each other, laughing with each other, and there he is alone.

Sometimes his mother will talk about his father. Not often, never often. But if she’s in a particularly good mood, or willing to splurge on alcohol of some sort she’ll do it. Martin feels guilty the first time he does and it ruins her good mood, but he _has_ to know more.

There’s a part of him, that part that watched parents pick up their kids from kindergarten, swing them around and plant kisses on their foreheads, that wants that, that believes that his father might be like that.

He asks her, “Did he know you were pregnant?”

She considers it sitting on the lumpy old chair with a cup of tea that Martin made, she hasn’t touched it, he’s been practising it for his job, before she replies, “I doubt it, he left a few weeks before I started to show.”

His mother fixes him with a distasteful glare and Martin retreats with a quiet, “Just call if you need anything.”

While other teenagers are doing drugs and going to parties, Martin is working three different jobs just waiting for them to find out he lied on his CV and taking care of his mother. She pushes him away, refuses his help, and a part of Martin whispers what he already knows to be true.

“Did you marry him?” Martin questions, it’s late in the evening and he’s just finished the laundry, he’s dead tired from his previous shift where the manager yelled at him, and he just wants _something_.

“Yes, he only agreed after I pushed for it,” She replies staring blankly at the tv screen, pretending he isn’t there, her lips twist with displeasure, “He was always off at sea on that ship of his. Never did the discourtesy of cheating on me though that perhaps would have been better,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes, “I wouldn’t see him for weeks, he usually showed up once a month then left again. That last time I knew he wasn’t coming back.”

“So, you never got divorced?” Martin questions quietly, his words barely above a whisper.

“The paperwork came in six months later,” She says her hands shifting over the blanket on her lap as she replies, “It was a nice enough settlement, I never bothered for child support, didn’t want his charity.”

It burns in Martin’s chest somewhere, hot and heavy, all the way up to his eyes. He could be in high school; he could be living a normal life! But instead, because his mother doesn’t want charity from his absent father, he’s been forced to work long hours, to do everything a child shouldn’t have to.

It should make him hate her, sometimes he thinks he does, but he’s still clinging onto that naïve hope that she loves him.

“I hated your father,” She says distantly glancing out the window where far away the sea glimmers as dark as obsidian, “You look just like him.”

Sometimes, Martin looks in the mirror, he holds up the picture of his father, he has the same broad shoulders, his hair doesn’t have salt and pepper at the edges but it could one day. His eyes are a strange mix of his mother’s and father’s, more a murky brown than anything nice. But he sees his father in his face, the slant of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the set of his eyes; he promises to never grow a beard.

“What was his name?” Martin asks before he goes to work, she is lying in bed watching the television.

“It’s somewhere in the office,” is all his mother says.

Martin digs through the paperwork until he finds the divorce papers, sees his mother’s name, and the other name Peter Lukas. He googles the family and it feels like vinegar on his tongue, they’re _rich._

He never sends an email even if sometimes he wants to.

When she refuses his help at every turn, can barely even look at him, with a heavy heart, Martin leaves her at a care home. Maybe she’ll be happier there, without the son she… without Martin interfering on her life.

He gets his own place, cheap with an infestation and a drippy ceiling, but its all he can afford while keeping his mother in the home. He’s alone, truly alone for the first time in his life, and all he has to show for it is cheap ramen noodles and a blurry television screen that only works sometimes.

His coworkers never invite him out for drinks. He always feels like an intruder, the new guy that never really becomes anything else. Always too incompetent, always weighing the team down, always alone.

He’s become resigned to the loneliness.

Oh, sometimes he’ll watch a couple walk down the streets or children playing together and his chest _hurts_ with how badly he wants that. But for the most part, Martin is fine with being alone, he’s not really sure how to interact with people in normal situations anymore, he doesn’t want to be hurt again so maybe this is for the best.

He decides to apply at the Magnus Institute with the hope that it might be different, better, or at least better than customer service. He can’t help the anxiety he always feels during an interview, when they ask about his CV and the lies just trickle sweet as honey from his lips.

He got used to lying well.

Martin used to lie to his mother all the time, oh sure we have more honey just one minute, no there’s plenty of food for both of us, I’m doing well in school, I’ve finished my homework, this is for the best for both of us really, I love you too.

He’s hired and the pay rate is too good to turn down.

He’s assigned as an assistant to the Head Archivist and that’s when he meets Jon Sims. The instant Martin sees him, dark hair, dark eyes, thin like he’s made of bird bones, his heart stutters in his chest and he can only think _really?_

There’s also Tim and Sasha. Tim who is friendly, genuinely friendly, not the type of friendly meant to garner favours, and he’s kind, interested in Martin’s favourite show or band. Martin is suspicious for the first week, all bottled up, but Tim slowly weeds it out of him.

Sasha is kind, she doesn’t really have the patience during work hours to chat, but when they all go out for lunch together or get drinks she’ll laugh and joke with Martin. They talk to him like he’s there, they make plans with him, to go get drinks, to have lunch.

He doesn’t feel alone.

Jon is cold towards him for the first few months but Martin understands he doesn’t submit the best work until Sasha takes him under her wing and coaches him through a few things with a sympathetic and knowing look. Still, at least Jon likes his tea.

It gets a bit better after that.

Then Jon introduces them all to Gerry, Martin’s always believed in the supernatural, has always known there was more to some of the statements, Gerry just confirms that. But it’s the look in Jon’s eyes when he looks at Gerry that makes him go _oh._

He’s used to it by now or should be in any case.

He gets trapped in his apartment by Prentis.

Martin can hear her knocking all hours of the day and he worries that his leaky ceilings will collapse at any moment admitting a torrential downpour of worms. He’s thankful in some measure that he has so much canned food (it’s cheaper, so is junk food).

Then there’s Jon voice on the other side of the door reminding him that he’s not alone.

Time passes at the Institute, Martin, in a sad sort of way, can honestly say it isn’t the worst job he’s ever had. Watching Jon bleeding and stopping Prentis with his… powers, then in the aftermath, running himself ragged.

He tells Jon they all have their secrets and he means it.

At some point, in between drinks with Tim and Sasha, and bringing Jon tea he realises that he’s fallen quite hard.

He’s had crushes before, kids at school, coworkers, even just a barista at a coffee shop he used to go to. But it was never a possibility, he was too busy, or had a dingy apartment, or never talked to them.

But sometimes Jon smiles at him, and it’s so warm.

When Jon stumbles back into the Archives with his hand wrapped hiding a burn and then later, he exits his office bleeding, Martin just shakes his head and gets out the first aid kit (he tells them about his band and Martin listens to all the albums; he falls in love again). They all know Jon isn’t quite human, but of all the things that make Jon, that probably bothers Martin the least; it’s a bit worrying.

When they deal with the not-them, Martin’s heart is practically frozen in his chest, watching as Jon is covered in eyes, as he _smites_ the not-them. Sasha’s gripping his arm and Tim is holding the flamethrower and he’s never been more scared for his life but its also so incredibly right.

When Jon and Tim go to the artic after a lead, it’s just Martin and Sasha alone.

He’s always liked Tim, he’s one of his best friends, but with Sasha, they talk about their distant parents, they read statements about the Unknowing together, they talk about Jon. She doesn’t tease him about his feelings, just looks a little pitying as she says, “I don’t think its completely one-sided Martin.”

He doesn’t dare to hope. Not anymore.

Jon comes back and for an hour it’s good, but then Sasha and Jon go into the tunnels and Sasha is the only one to return. They threaten Elias, try to connect what dots Jon left behind but it’s useless.

Gerry shows up while Martin’s alone in the Archives and puzzling over a statement, he just hovers quietly watching Martin until he notices him. Gerry just laughs and says, “It’s a Slaughter statement.”

“Thanks,” Martin replies almost but not quite grudgingly. He studies Gerry, wonders if Jon has a type if he fits into that type.

Gerry settles cross-legged beside Martin and with a sigh says, “My mom wanted to use me as a tool, to further her legacy. She exposed me to countless Leitners when I was a kid.”

“Gods I’m sorry Gerry,” Martin apologises and then adds, “I think my mom hates me, she only sees my dad.”

They get along better after that.

Almost a month later Jon steps into the Archives and Martin has to squash down the urge to hug him; he does fuss over him.

Martin’s not sure what happens but between one night and the next Jon stumbles into the Archives with one arm wrapped in gauze and his hand hovering over his stomach. He forces Jon to sit down and rebandages the wound, doesn’t push for Jon to talk, just listens.

When Jon tells them everything, about Jonah, about his mother (Gertrude Robinson!), it all sort of clicks together and Martin is tempted for a minute to mention his own unfortunate parentage. Instead, he volunteers to stay behind.

It’s nerve-wracking, waiting, stealing into Elias’ eyes and tucking the Lonely, it’s always been there now he just Knows what it is, around himself and gathering what he can. In the aftermath of everything, he visits Tim and Jon’s bedside, his eyes tracing their new wounds. Sasha is different, her hugs are tighter, his very bones creaking but well she’s still Sasha, just with added dirt.

He sees Jon in the alleyway, alive, awake, new scars shifting in the smoke curling from his cigarette, he’s talking to Gerry but when he notices Martin his whole expression just goes _soft._ He wraps Jon into a hug, inhales the faint scent of tea, cigarette smoke, and old books, and doesn’t want to let go ever again.

When Jon kisses him?

He thinks he must be dreaming, but if it is a dream, he won’t let it slip away.

Martin has a long chat with Gerry, about what he is going to do, about their relationships with Jon. Martin thinks that in another life, in different circumstances he could have loved Gerard Keay, who listened to the same bands as a teenager, who had a distant mother, an absent father, who’s been used too much in their lifetime.

In this one, Martin presses a soft kiss to Gerry’s cold cheek and watches him fade away.

When its done and Jon has stumbled back down with Georgie and Melanie, quietly gasping for air, Martin brings him home, tucks him up in a few blankets and puts on a movie. He has a new apartment now, it’s nicer, they nap together curled up on the couch and it doesn’t feel so empty.

They’re discussing what amounts to battle plans when the name trips from Jon’s lips, Peter Lukas. Martin always prayed he would never have to hear that name, that he would never have to confront the very real idea of his absent father.

He opens his mouth, maybe to say something, to tell everyone when his phone rings.

It’s the care home and Martin Knows suddenly with a deep sinking feeling in his chest, the heavy sort as he steps outside and dully hears the nurse or whoever tells him that his mother is dead.

He’s been expecting it for so long. She’s been sick for so long and a part of Martin just wanted it to be _over_. That sounds horrible, doesn’t it? He should feel grief, but mostly he just feels distant, not even empty, just… the emotions are absent as if they’ve drifted away.

His mother might have loved him once, but it was like how one loves an errant and misbehaving pet, just waiting for it to die or leave; though in this case, Martin supposes she was the one waiting to die. It’s almost funny in the morbid sort of way.

Numbly he goes home to his apartment, sends Jon a text though he probably already Knows anyway.

A day or two passes in a blur, organizing her will, picking up her stuff to donate, keeping the photo of his father and a scant few other things. Jon doesn’t call, he texts once, Martin feels distant.

That’s when there’s the knock on the door.

It’s Peter Lukas.

It couldn’t be anyone else. Martin knows that nose, that jaw, the curve of his eyes, the salt and pepper hair that has started to creep in at the sides; he’s seen it in the mirror for so long. There is no recognition in his father’s eyes as Martin smiles politely and asks, “Can I help you with something?”

“Martin isn’t it?” Peter questions forcing his way inside his apartment.

“Yes, Peter Lukas I presume,” Martin replies, wonders if he can reach his phone fast enough to call Jon.

“You’re quite lonely, aren’t you?” Peter asks leaning into Martin’s space, almost leering at him (no, he’s not even thinking about that). Martin wants to retort, wants to say ‘no thanks to you’, he doesn’t.

“Not anymore,” Martin replies, thinks of Jon, with his tiny smiles, his hair falling out of a messy braid, his soft snores when he’s deeply asleep.

“None of that now,” His father interrupts with a tutting noise, “I’m terribly sorry about all this, well not really, but Elias asked.”

Being attracted to those of the Eye must run in the family is all Martin has time to think before he’s thrust into the Lonely.

It’s horrible.

A sort of aching, numbing cold.

It’s not really horrible. He wants to believe that but he Knows it’s not. Because the Lonely? It’s familiar, it’s the soft whispers that this is for the best, this is how it’s always been, how it always should be.

The Lonely, it’s right.

It’s home.

This is who he should be. Who he was always meant to be?

If his father had raised him this would be his domain, the Lonely knows this, it whispers to him, tells him to embrace it, take that last step, Become.

Hasn’t Martin always been lonely? Isolated even when surrounded by people.

Wouldn’t this be for the best?

Isn’t this better?

No one can harm him here, there is no one yelling at him for doing a job wrong, his mother is gone, he is blessedly _alone._

But what about Jon?

Jon?

Yes Jon. Jon who smells like tea, like old books, and cigarettes, who laughs deep in his chest, who’s eyes are mesmerizing, who loves to infodump when given the chance, who sprawls out in his sleep and mumbles under his breath, who bites his nails, who picks at his scars and feels self-conscious even though he tries to hide it.

Jon.

“Martin!”

That’s his name, isn’t it? Yes, he’s Martin and that voice, the one that spills from tape recorders, that talks late into the night, that is Jon’s.

“Jon!” he calls back, the name sinking into the fog that surrounds him.

It whispers, stay, Jon would be better without someone useless like Martin, it whispers, this is your home, where else do you belong after all? You’re an outsider, you want to be alone, don’t you?

“Martin, tell me what you _see_ ,” Jon’s voice and Martin blinks, the fog clearing and he _sees_ Jon, his dark eyes staring into Martin’s own.

They walk hand in hand through the Lonely, Martin can feel it tugging at him, asking him, begging him, enticing him, telling him to pull Jon deeper, it will protect them, they’ll be safe.

Being alone was never good, he just resigned himself to it, convinced himself he liked it.

They hear Gerry’s voice and something in Martin’s chest does a little pitter-patter that stills entirely when Jon tilts his head glancing over his shoulder into the Lonely. Martin doesn’t need explanations, he wants them, wants Jon to stay, makes him promise to come back and lets himself be pushed out of the Lonely and into Gerry’s arms.

Gerry is cold and Knowing as they stand in the Archives, his arms wrapping around Martin until he can hear the slow, barely audible thud of his heart.

He’ll come back; he has to.

He doesn’t.

The very foundation shakes and in the aftermath, they search through the wreckage, Sasha melts through the debris, they bring Daisy down to see if she can scent anything, even Gerry tries; they find nothing.

Basira tells him what happened to Peter Lukas, Martin feels nothing but a faint touch of vindictive satisfaction that his father is gone. He sends an email to the Lukas family with the divorce papers and his birth certificate and in return, they send the years of child support and in fewer words ask him never to contact them again.

They find a new place, Gerry and Martin, they decorate it with furniture from his old place, band posters, things he always stared at in storefronts but could never actually afford to buy. They get a cat, Martin names her the Captain in honour of Jon. They dance together in the kitchens and Martin cooks most nights in fear of Gerry starting a fire, they watch tv and bitch about it together; he thinks he might actually be happy.

Sometimes he still feels the Lonely calling him.

He spends a lot of time in the ruins of the Panopticon talking to Jon, sometimes just for himself, sometimes because he has to hope, has to believe.

There’s nothing until there’s something,

Then there is Jon blinking eyes that can’t see but that doesn’t matter, because he’s there and real beneath Martin’s hands and he came back.

Martin presses a lot of kisses to Jon’s face, let’s Gerry tug them into a bone-crushing hug and then haul them back to the apartment. His chest _aches_ but it’s a good ache as he watches Jon meet the Captain, as they show him around the apartment and later curl in bed.

Tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that, Jon and Martin will take turns cooking, they’ll share new music, or help Jon with his lyrics. They’ll file statements in the Archives together. They’ll visit a cabin in Scotland in the summer and Martin will see some lovely cows, and he won’t be alone.

He’ll stand on a cliff face the old picture of his father, near worn to nothing by age in his hands, he’ll let it drop, the wind carrying it which way it will. Then he’ll turn and enter the cabin, cuddle with Jon and Gerry in front of the fireplace and listen to Jon tell a story.

It will be good and he won’t be lonely anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed seeing everything from Martin's perspective, it was really interesting tapping into the Lonely. I still have one more part planned for this series and then it'll probably be done. Comments are always appreciated, till next time!


End file.
